


Along Came a Spider

by BurningPlumBranches



Category: Coraline (2009), Coraline - All Media Types, Coraline - Neil Gaiman
Genre: Alternate Universe, Child Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, based on fan theories
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-09 11:30:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10411182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurningPlumBranches/pseuds/BurningPlumBranches
Summary: Based on the fan theories of The Theoizer (https://www.youtube.com/user/cscool12) and my own theories of Coraline, both the original book and the movie.Who is the Beldam and why does she hate cats? Does putting one's mother in her grave run in the family? How does the cat go between the 2 worlds? So many questions unanswered, the threads weave an intricate web. What happens when we untangle it?Art was the first child the Beldam tried to capture. He is the Boring Blue Boy in the Painfully Boring picture. His life was far from boring, and his story continues through the years as he tries to save all the children who enter The Pink Palace. Who is Art, you ask? Why, just ask the cat.





	1. Down The Rabbit Hole

  My name, when I still needed one, was Artemis. As the boy would say, "Not _my_ choice." 

  She was never a good mother. I didn't know what a mother was supposed to be until I was reborn as a cat! Cold and distant, yet controlling and demanding, my mother was always wicked and only thought of herself. My father, who she never spoke of, died not long after the house was built. He had been a tycoon of some kind and left a huge fortune behind. One part for my mother and one part for me, that would remain closed until I was 17. I always wondered why he did this, maybe he didn't trust her not to spend all of his money before I came of age and wanted me to be left with _something_ , just in case. I was only 2 at the time. I must have cried as she made me a doll to shush me. The doll looked like me, with his blond curls and blue suit. His eyes were buttons. The Little Artemis was my only friend then, as I was not allowed outside much and didn't get to make friends. I did have a lot of toys and trinkets. Shiny gizmos that wound up and sang or danced, puppets to act out stories I had heard or made-up, a small circus tent that had little animal figures I could move around in it, painted tin solders I could line up only to knock down in battle, books with colorful pictures, a toy piano, and so much more. Any child's dream, a room full of wonderful, expensive toys. But they didn't mean anything to me, I was trapped. 

  I could see the garden from my window, the creepy place resembled my mother and I felt like she could see me if I looked at it for too long. Her tastes were rich. Imported chocolates, exotic flowers, foreign paintings and artifacts from far off places. She loved the color red, and most of her dresses were fine red and black silk. She made a striking figure, alluring, dark, and beautiful, for a while. While she did think of only her self, she did like to show me off to her friends who came to visit, pompous snobs like she was. They would fuss over me and pinch my cheeks and pet my hair and then I was sent to my room. 

  She decided to have a portrait painted of me.

  "Hold still for the nice man, Art," she said in her whispery voice, "Here's some ice-cream, my little doll." her thin fingers mussed and patted down my curls.

  The man was going to take my picture first, then paint a portrait using this as a reference. It would be easier than having a 6-year-old sit for hours on end. As the man took the picture the scoop fell off the cone and onto my blue suit. The man laughed softly, amused, but my mother was not amused at all. I saw her face get dark and her eyes shine with anger. 

  "That will make a very whimsical portrait, my boy, your mother will be please!" 

  "So I shall." she said darkly. 

  The man packed his camera up and left, saying he'd be done in about a week. I shrank away and tried to edge out of the parlor and towards the stairs. She caught me by my nose, ignoring my cry of pain, "That was embarrassing, Art!" she spat, dragging me to the closet behind the mirror in the hall.

  "No, mother, please!" I cried as she more or less tossed me in and shut the door. I sat down on the floor of the small closet and hugged my knees to my chest. I must have fallen asleep there, I woke up in my bed. There was a big box, wrapped in a shiny ribbon sitting on the floor by my bed. 

  "Dearest Art, Here is a new toy for my perfect boy. I love you very much. Love Mother." the note said

  In the box was a new toy, of course. 

* * *

 

  As time went on, things did not get better. They got worse. Money must've been running low. Instead of getting me new cloths, she'd just size down something of my father's. She must have gotten tired of that too, because it stopped eventually. If I told her I needed new cloths, she'd just tell me to find something in my father's old wardrobe and leave her alone. My mother's patience wore thin, and she lashed out more and more. Even her snooty friends didn't want to be around her anymore. Her looks changed too. She ran herself ragged and became ill often. I was hardly a teenager at this time, and was expected to do work at this point, mostly because we couldn't seem to keep servants anymore. 

  The mantra I kept in my head, I would be 17 in only a few years and I could get away from her.

  Getting away from her came much sooner than I would have hopped. 

  It was raining, it rained almost all the time, and my mother wanted me to chop wood. 

  "Mother, it is raining!" I protested.

  "I said, go chop some wood." She insisted.

  "No." I stated, taking a stand.

  Her face grew dark, as it did when she was angry, and her eyes shinned like black glass. She went and got the ax from the wood shed and brought it inside, "Now, Art, I will give you until the count of three."

  I remained silent.

  "One...." her face grew even darker, "Two...." she took a step closer to me, and I became scared, " **THREE!!!** " She screamed and came running after me. I took off through the house and out the front door. I ran up the hill, my mother hot on my heels, cackling madly, her stringy raven hair like a cloud of smoke behind her despite the rain soaking her though. I realized how thin she had become, she was nearly a skeleton. I kept running, because as emaciated as she was, she was still fast and wicked as the wind.

  I heard my feet hit wood. I had ran over the top of the well. The wall that had used to surrounded it had collapsed the year before and I had placed a few planks of wood over it to keep anything from falling in. It had been strong enough to support my weight but...

 I heard my mother run over it, a loud crack and a louder scream. I turned quickly, just in time to see her vanish into the ground. I ran back over to the well, still hearing her screaming and screaming, even as it got softer and softer, before being engulfed by the darkness.

  "MOTHER!" I screamed. No answer. " _MOTHER!!!_ " I screamed again, crying. No one was around to help me. As fast as I could, I ran into town. Town was really far and it was almost dark before I was pounding on the sheriff's door.

  "M-My mother..." I panted when his wife answered. "S-she fell..." 

  She pulled me in, I must have been shivering from the rain and exhausted from running for so long. She tried to give me something to drink and eat but I pushed it away, "We have to get her out!" I insisted.

  "Calm down, son." the sheriff said gently, "Now tell me what's wrong."

  "My mother fell down our well..."

  I told him the whole story, even the part about how I didn't want to chop wood in the rain, "I should've listened! None of this would have happened... It's all my fault.

  "Now now, Art, these thing happen, it was just an accident. Give me a few moment, let me get some men together, we'll try to get the Grand Dame out of the well."

  And they did try. In the rain, with torches, ropes, and a large crowd of people. It was not unheard of, how ill my mother had been. People were not surprised that she had chased me down with an ax, but there where whispers already spreading about how much of an "accident" this was.

  The sheriff had brought many ropes, more than enough for your standard well. They could not find the bottom. He said something about there possibly being a pocket of air,  wash-out, or something like that, causing the bottom to collapse, making the well deeper. 

  "I'm sorry Art. We just can't reach her without endangering others. She most likely died when she hit the bottom."

  "I.... need to be alone..." I told him

  He rubbed my back, affectionately, "Take your time, Art, I'll send someone to check up on you in the morning."


	2. The Key, The Door and the Adder Stone

  The next morning, I was awoken by knocking on the door. I was still in my rain-washed cloths from the night before. I paused a moment and remembered. My mother had fallen down the well, and the sheriff said she could not be reached, the well was too deep. I took a shaky breath and went downstairs to open the door. Standing there was the sheriff and my father's lawyer, who had been managing the estate all these years. We sat in the parlor while the men went over a few things with me. The house was mine, it had always been mine since my father passed away. While my own trust fund was still locked, my mother's was not, and she did not have a will, but since I was her only child and the money was originally my father's and this was a different time, the money was actually all mine too. I had no relatives near by. Either parent hadn't placed a plan of action in case they both should die. Normally I would have been sent to an orphanage, but I was rich and had connections.

  "Your father had a brother, he lives in Michigan with his wife and daughter. I will wright to them, and explain the situation. The sheriff has extended an invitation to you to come stay at his house, but you may stay here. This is your home and you can stay. The towns people, myself and the kind sheriff included, will check in on you frequently."

  I nodded, "Thank you for your invitation, but I want to stay here." I saw the men out and spent the day roaming around the house. It didn't feel like my house, it felt like someone else's. I found my mother's room and sat on her bed. It dawned on me that I had never once been inside her room, not ever. It felt wrong to be in there. I looked around her things, my things, everything belonged to me. I was looking for something she had shone me once, and found it in her jewelry box. A green stone with a hole in it. 

  "This is called an adder stone, Art." she told me once, "When you look through the hole it revels the truth."

* * *

 

  I spent a good deal of time in the parlor. It was the best kept room in the house, after all. I played with the adder stone and watched the rain hit the window. It was quiet, so quiet and I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard the scratching. Ugh, I thought, rats.... I was interrupted in my investigation by knocking. Some ladies from the church had come to check up on me. They had brought pies and puddings and all sorts of food. I let them all into the parlor, and they asked me how I was doing and if I needed anything to call on them. They invited me to church, mother and I had never attended, and I agreed I'd come the following Sunday. I was anxious for interaction. The house was big and empty and lonely. They discussed having a funeral by the side of the well, and I said that sounded like a good idea. I felt like my mother wasn't really dead, and maybe holding a service for her would make it real.

  I saw the kind ladies off, and went to fix some of the food they brought me. I ate alone in the kitchen and put everything away when I was finished. That food would last days if not a week. I fetched water from the pump. We had thought the well had dried up years ago when the buckets no longer brought back water, and then the walls caved in. I stared at the pump, thinking if only I had sealed up the well better. If only I had chopped the wood like my mother asked me to. If only I had been a better son. I went back inside and sat in the parlor, turning the adder stone over in my hands. 

  I heard the scratching again, but this time I got serious about finding the rats. I heard a creek and looked up. There had always been that small door in the parlor. It led to a crawlspace. Mother kept it locked, but she left the keys in all the locks in the house. Except this one. This one she kept on a nail in the kitchen. How was the door open? I got closer to look and saw that the key was in the door. I closed and locked the little door and examined the key. Black and made of iron. It didn't match any of the other keys in the house that were made of silver, for the bed rooms, or brass for the closets and bathrooms. I put the iron key back on it's nail in the kitchen.

  That night as I lay in my bed, it came to me. The rats were in the crawl-space! I wanted to go down and investigate right then, but it was night, and too dark. It bothered me so much, and I didn't get much sleep, showing up to my mother's well-side funeral looking tired. Everyone in town turned out for my mother's funeral, I'm still not sure if they came to support me, a boy hardly anyone knew, or if they came out of morbid curiosity. Kind words were said for the Grand Dame, and even her snooty friends showed up. The carpenter from town had made a better covering for the well. It fit perfectly over it and could hold the weight of 2 grown men. The ladies from the church arranged flowers over it, and a white washed cross with my mother's name, Octavia, carved into it, was nailed into the soil by the edge of the well, her grave. The grave I put her in.

  I was over come with guilt and grief. I ran back to the house before the funeral was over. Dead, she was really dead, but I was not free of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is Octavia a cliche name for the Beldam? X_X


	3. Mist and Silence

  A mist settled over the hills. I could not see beyond the trees that surrounded me. The house was silent, and so empty, like a wandering dream. I closed he windows, unable to look out and see either the shed or the well. I curled up in the parlor on the love-seat and dozed off. When I woke the house was cold and dark, and outside it was raining softly.I got up to light the fire, but heard it again, the scratching, coming from inside the little door. I decided to have a look, and after lighting a candle, I went and got the key from the kitchen. I unlocked it and opened the door to find, not the dusty, plain crawlspace, but a tunnel, illuminated by something unseen, and another door on the other end. I crept through the door and crawled to the other side. I opened the other door, only to find myself exactly where I had been. I was back in my parlor, but... something was different. I looked around. The fireplace was already lit. But how?

  I noticed this was NOT the same room, only due to the fact my portrait was different. Altered. Instead of ice-cream fallen down my shirt, I was painted enjoying a triple scoop cone. This was odd, but odder still, I heard singing. I walked out of the parlor and saw lights lit in the kitchen. What shocked me the most was seeing my mother standing with her back to me

  "M-mother?" I gasped non-the less. Was I dreaming? Had she come back to haunt me for putting her in her grave?

  She turned to me and smiled sweetly. She looked just like my mother, well, like she did before she got ill, in a way. She was still white as a sheet, but her lips were blood red, like she liked, and her hair was neatly done up. The only thing that was truly off were her eyes. Buttons, buttons were in place of her eyes, as if they had been sewn in to replace her real eyes.

  "You're... not my mother..." I said, dumbfounded.

  "Of course not, I'm your Other Mother, dear." she said in a cheerful way. 

  "My... other mother?" I questioned. 

  "Yes." she said, "Everyone has one. How about you help me set the table, dear? Dinner is almost ready."

  I nodded, and helped her set the table and she brought out the food. The dinning room too was the same but different. The colors on the wall-paper seemed more vibrant. It was clean of any dust or cob-web. The table had been recently polished and the cloths had all been bleached and starched. The silver candle sticks had been polished and thin white candles were lit and the chandelier too, having the crystal ornaments replaced. She served me meat pies, pudding, fresh fruit, and olives. 

  "You cooked this?" I asked. She nodded, "But... my mother never cooked..."

  "Well, I can cook all your favorite foods for you dear."

  She removed my finished plate and replaced it with a cake, yellow with small white flowers and letters that read "Welcome Home, Artemis"

  "Home?" I questioned

  "I've been waiting for you, dear."

  I was quiet for a moment, but I smiled, for the first time in ages. Yet, I started crying. She hugged me and made gentle shushing noises, "There there, dear." She said softly. I was happy, actually. I wouldn't be alone anymore. 

  "You must be tired." she said after I had calmed down. I nodded, I was tired, "Come alone, Art, I'll tuck you in. Your bed is all made up."

  As I was already amazed by this... other world, and a little overwhelmed, my room, as it turned out, was very simple. It had always been cluttered by too many toys that I no longer played with. This room, while still comfortable, was clean of clutter. The fire was lit, and the dove gray quilt on the large four-poster oak bed was turned down. The ceiling had animated golden stairs against a deep blue sky. I got into the bed with a yawn and the other mother sat in a near-by chair.

  The last thing I heard was "Good night.... my little doll."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have 3 chapters in less than a week, and that is a record for me, but I have a hard time continuing fic when I don't get any feed back, so if you want to read more of this fic, please comment on it, let me know what you think.


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